How to Dispose of a Mars
by Lear's Daughter
Summary: How Jack O'Neill passed one of his favorite headaches on to Elizabeth Weir. Or, how Veronica Mars got sent to Atlantis.


Note: This might be the first in a series of one-shots, depending on how inspired I get. This is set after The Siege Part III for SGA and is a futurefic for Veronica Mars.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Stargate_ or _Veronica Mars_

* * *

General Jack O'Neill was expecting the call.

"Dr. Weir," he drawled, stretching out on his couch, nice cold beer in hand. He was planning to enjoy this. "How can I help you?"

"General, I've been looking at the roster of new members of the Atlantis expedition." She spoke in a careful, measured voice, as if worried that he might be too dimwitted to understand her.

He smirked. He'd heard that tone from Sam a time or two and it never failed to amuse him. "And?"

"Well, sir, I have some concerns."

"Some concerns?" he said airily. "This isn't about Major Lorne, is it? Because I know he seems disgustingly nice, but I'm told he has a vicious streak."

"No, no, I was quite pleased by Major Lorne's file. I'm sure he'll fit in fine."

"Well, you know, Elizabeth, I don't much approve of marines myself, but Lieutenant Cadman could have been an Air Force officer if she'd only applied herself and stopped blowing everything to bits."

"I don't have a problem with Lieutenant Cadman, General." Was it his imagination, or was she starting to sound a little strained?

"I know what it is! You're still trying to steal Daniel. I'm sorry, Doc, but he's as necessary now as he was a year ago. You can't have him."

He could hear her teeth grind. "While I'm sure that Dr. Jackson would be a valuable member of our expedition, I never expected you to let him go to Pegasus." Her tone implied that she would rather be negotiating with the Russians—or, God forbid, the Genii—than have to put up with Jack.

Jack's grin widened. He rubbed his fingers against the cold condensation on his bottle. "Okay, Elizabeth," he said. "I give up. What are your concerns?"

"It's really just one concern," she said.

"And what might that be?"

"Veronica Mars."

The name, as always, made Jack shudder, a frisson of dread slipping down his spine. He needed another beer. Good thing the fridge was full of them.

"You don't like her?" He affected surprise. "She's pretty loveable, Elizabeth. If you like cute, perky blondes, that is."

"Jack—" and now he _knew_ he was getting to her "—I haven't even met her."

He used the kitchen counter to pop the top off another bottle and took a long gulp. "Then what's the problem?"

"What's the problem? _What's the problem?_ You're sending some 21-year-old college student to Atlantis and you want to know what the problem is?"

"College graduate," he corrected. "California schools work on a quarter system. She graduated a quarter early, in January."

There was a faint noise of rifling paper. "With a degree in…criminology."

"She's very good, from what I hear," he said helpfully.

"Her experience consists of a couple of years of PI work and two summers interning at the FBI."

"Plus, she solved the Lilly Kane murder, and she makes a mean snickerdoodle." Mmmmm…cookies. He needed to get Daniel to bake him some and mail them from Colorado. There were definite drawbacks to living in DC. (Like not getting to save the world on an annual basis, needle Carter every day, or teach Teal'c the finer points of hockey. Not that he was dwelling.)

"She's never been convicted, but she's got a history of criminal charges a mile long," Elizabeth pointed out.

"Come on, Elizabeth, what's a little breaking and entering among friends?" Jack hadn't had this much fun in a long time.

"Jack."

"Elizabeth."

"Who is Veronica Mars—" he shuddered "—and what is her connection to the SGC? Is she Tok'ra?"

That surprised a laugh out of him. "No. She doesn't have a snake in her head."

"Then what?"

"Liz, Veronica Mars—" shudder "—is exactly what she seems."

"And what's that?"

"Way too smart for her own good. We've had civilian organizations figure us out before. A couple of reporters, a billionaire or two—them we know how to handle. But imagine my surprise when I learned that a 20-year-old California girl had been caught breaking into the SGC, apparently hunting down an airman whose wife thought he might be straying."

There was a pause. "She made it past the front guards?"

"She made it past the guards, used a fake ID to gain access to the elevator—you know, the one people without security clearance aren't supposed to know _exists_—and found the 'gate room before Sam figured out they'd been hacked. She tazered two SFs trying to escape before Teal'c brought her down with a zat."

Jack shook his head, half-admiring, half-disturbed, and took another swig of beer.

"Anyway, when she woke up she made it very clear that she'd intuited a lot more than we hoped, and the 'Giant alien ring? What giant alien ring?' excuse wasn't going to work. We got her to sign the nondisclosure agreement—so, you see, threats _can_ work against her—shipped her back to California, and hoped that would be it."

"That wasn't it, was it?" Elizabeth sounded tired. He almost regretted doing this to her.

"She had a lot of questions. About our mission reports. Which, apparently, she managed to sneak out of the mountain when she left."

"And who did she go to with these questions?" Now Elizabeth sounded like she was trying not to laugh. Like she knew the answer already. Yeah, he had no regrets.

"She called me all the time. 'How did you not see the signs that so-and-so was evil?' 'How much do you know about Major Collins's childhood, and do you realize that he has ties to ex-Vice President Kinsey's younger brother?' 'Can I have a sample of naquadah?'"

Elizabeth snorted.

Jack rolled his eyes. "You get the picture. After about a month of that, I figured we had two choices—lock her up, or bring her in."

"Why did you choose the second option?"

Oh, he'd asked himself that question many, many times. He ticked off the reasons on his fingers. "One, because we aren't in the habit of locking up U.S. citizens for being pests. Two, because, much as I hate to admit it, she's as smart when it comes to solving mysteries as Daniel is at languages or Carter is at pulling of technological miracles. Four, because I couldn't possibly inflict her on a cellmate and our budget goes to jello and nukes and not to giving people spacious cells of their own. And five…Well, I like her."

"You skipped three, General."

"Yeah, three's classified. Above your security clearance. Sorry."

He heard a gulp on the other end and realized that Elizabeth might be indulging in some liquid fortification as well. Good for her.

"So you decided to bring her in."

He shrugged, though of course she couldn't see it. "You'd be amazed how useful she's been to have around. Officially, she's a civilian contractor like Daniel, though we had to fudge a little on her specialty. She's smart enough that she's picked up Ancient and Goa'uld like a pro and she's got a decent understanding of the kind of technology we handle at the SGC. She and Cadman get on like a house on fire, and Cadman's been teaching her to fight. She's a good marksman. Mostly, we keep her around as a kind of early warning system—she's got a real talent for noticing when something's out of place and figuring out the cause _and_ a workable solution. Sometimes we let her go off-world, just so she'll stop whining."

There was a long silence. "Why isn't any of this in her file?"

"Ah, I might have left that bit out of the file you were given," he said delicately. "I kind of thought this was something that needed to be explained mano a mano."

"If she's so useful to have around, how come you're so anxious to get rid of her?"

"Elizabeth," he said, aggrieved. "She calls me. At my house. When I refused to answer her questions, she hacked my Tivo and erased all my backlogged _Simpsons_ episodes. She snuck off-world once disguised as an adolescent Jaffa. With her around, it's impossible to keep any kind of secret. Frankly, she's a menace."

"Why do I have to take her?" There was something very much like an un-ladylike whine in Elizabeth's voice.

"Because I'm in charge," Jack said smugly. "Because she has the gene. And because she'll be an asset. Liz, Veronica—" he was almost able to control the shudder this time, damn it! "—was always at the top of my list to go to Atlantis if we ever got the chance to send more people your way."

"But what am I supposed to do with her?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out." Before she could protest further, he yawned loudly. "Oh, look at the time. I have an early meeting with the President tomorrow morning. Must get my beauty sleep. So nice talking to you, Doctor Weir, have a nice time in Pegasus."

"General," she said dangerously, "we're not done yet."

"I can't understand you. You're breaking up! Are you going through a tunnel?"

"Jack…"

"Trust me on this one, Liz," he said, and hung up.

He finished his beer and brushed his teeth, feeling pretty pleased with himself. He climbed into bed and had just rolled over onto his side and buried his head under the pillow when his phone rang.

"Hello?" he said.

"You know, you could have told her that I gave those _Simpsons_ episodes back after you caved."

"How did you—" He sat bolt upright in bed. "Did you _bug_ my _phone_?"

Veronica snorted. "Hardly."

He relaxed minutely.

"I think it was the Trust that did it," she went on. "I just hacked the signal so it would go to me instead of them."

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

"Don't worry, Jack. I'm both flattered and offended—most flattered—by your descriptions of me."

"Much as I appreciate the heads up about that bug in my phone, is there any particular reason you're calling me at midnight?"

"It's only nine o'clock here in Neptune," Veronica pointed out.

"Mars. You're supposed to be looking for that fugitive serial killer from P9X-881. What are you doing in California?"

"I'm leaving for Atlantis in a week. I had to say goodbye to my dad. Oh, also, I told him about the Stargate."

"You did _what?_"

"I had to tell him." Oh, now _she_ was doing that it's-so-simple-why-don't-you-get-it voice. He didn't mind it from Sam or Elizabeth, but it was just plain wrong coming from a 21-year-old. He was going to have to kill her.

"Mars, you signed a nondisclosure agreement."

"Jack, my dad's a PI, and a former sheriff. Do you really think he was just going to let me disappear off the face of the Earth—literally—and not investigate further?"

"Do _you_ know what kind of headache this is going to be for me?"

"Serves you right for calling me a menace." He could hear her smirk. "Relax, he won't tell anyone."

"You can't just go around breaking federal laws, Mars."

"What're you gonna do? Ground me?"

"Oh, no. Not me. You're Weir's problem now."

"Excellent. Then you won't care that I'm bringing Backup to Pegasus with me."

He winced. "And Backup would be…"

"My dog. But don't worry, he only attacks on command."

God, he was going to miss her.


End file.
